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Show 22 The sea grew mora restless as the sun declined»and pitching and casting great clouds of smoke, the Nissan-maru headed along the coast. The cliffs rose sheer, coning upward toward a fringe of pines that shone high in the evening sun. Below, next to the water, darkness had begun to rise. "Fun," said Mike Asano. "Wasn't it," said Phyllis. "This dreadful odor," said Louise. "And the boat's so slow." They moved along the shora, gulls screaming in the wake, and on wheeling out to sea settled in to the rhythmic sluff-sluff of water past the bow. The cliffs were too steep for habitation, and as the darkness moved upward the only light visible came from a fishing smack far to the north. The children had grown quiet; stretched on a blanket the little Murakami girl was asleep. Rounding the point the boat caught the wind mora strongly, slapping spray high into the air. The women pulled their coats together, and held the collars high to protect their faces. The sea cams stronger; the ferry strained. At times, when the breeze dropped, the passengers heard a chorus of gurgles and clanks, as if, Phyllis observed, the pistons were arguing precedence. A large promontory loomed ahead, dark, the rocks contorted, and as they came even the wind gathered force, delivered two great blows. |